


The Grandmaster Lemon

by katiemickgee



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff, LemonLyman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:13:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4664469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiemickgee/pseuds/katiemickgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-series one-shot. Josh comes home from a long day to find Donna still hard at work. But when he realizes what she's working on, he isn't sure he'll be able to ever forget the betrayal. </p>
<p>(It's funny, I swear.)</p>
<p>Originally a Christmas present for my best pal, Tess (optimistic-host on Tumblr).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grandmaster Lemon

Nothing was going right at the office. Which was why Josh was so looking forward to getting home, where everything had a tendency to spiral out of control, too, but where missteps didn't send him into a murderous rage. He and Donna were both busy people, but they did a good job of sharing the domestic work, and they'd carved out a pretty little place with a big backyard for the kids in Silver Spring. For Josh, making that last turn into the driveway at the end of the day—be that five o'clock or eleven—made all the workplace bullshit worth it.

The porch light over the front door was still on, and most of the rest of the house was dark—kids asleep, cat probably curled up in his spot on the king-sized mattress, dog keeping watch in  the hall outside the kids'  bedroom doors. As he approached the house, Josh could see Donna sitting at the dining room table, typing away on her Mac, pausing intermittently to gnaw on her thumbnail and consider what she'd just written. Josh stepped off the porch, a soft smile on his face, and stood peering through the window.

The sheer force of his love must have piqued Donna's instinctive alert system, because she yawned and glanced at the window. Josh raised a hand to wave, but instead of the joyous grin he'd been expecting in greeting, he watched as Donna jumped and almost fell out of her chair, hand to her heart. She jabbed violently at the front door, indicating that he should come in, and Josh, concerned, hesitated only a moment more before hurrying back to the porch and letting himself into the house.

"What the hell were you doing out there?" Donna demanded the moment Josh had cleared the threshold.

Josh held up his hand again in greeting, to demonstrate. "I was, uh...I was waving."

"It's dark out, Josh. And late. You couldn't just come in and peck me on the cheek like always?"

"I was struck by your beauty in the window," Josh replied, and frowned as he dropped his briefcase and shrugged off his coast. "Excuse me for trying to be romantic."

Donna rested her head on one hand and sighed. "Romance is flowers and candlelight at eight o'clock, not Peeping Toms after one in the morning."

"All right, all right, point taken. No more grand romantic gestures." Josh hung his coat in the hall closet, then went to the dining room table and kissed Donna on the top of the head. "You didn't have to wait up for me."

"I meant to get to bed hours ago."

"Working hard?"

"Hardly working," Donna replied. At last, she gave him a small smile, and subtly turned the laptop away from his line of sight. "Hey."

Josh smiled back. "Hey. Want a glass of anything?"

"What are you having?"

"Bourbon."

"Sure, why the hell not."

Josh collected the booze, pouring a finger each into two tumblers and adding only a splash of water to both. He carried the glasses back to the table and set one at Donna's right hand, as she was busily typing again, and then set himself up across the table, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about all the shit he could've—should've—been working on. It was late on Friday night—Saturday morning, to be precise—and he was just going to sit, and enjoy his liquor, and have a nice evening basking in the warm presence of his beloved wife.

The typing stopped and Josh blinked a few times before looking over at Donna again. She had a hand over her mouth, mouthing words as she read back whatever she'd written, and slowly, her eyes traveled over the monitor and up to Josh. He smiled at her. "What are you working on?"

"Oh, just a...memo. Work stuff." Donna shrugged and picked up her bourbon, raising it to him in a toast. "TGIF." 

"Happy Saturday," Josh replied and took a small sip. Donna downed her drink in one go, and returned to her work.

They sat in silence for fifteen more minutes, before Josh finished his drink, too, and collected both glasses for a refill. He returned to the table and set his down at his place, then came around the table to Donna's side to put hers down. She was typing again, but he couldn't help but notice that she was easing the laptop away from him again, hiding whatever she was working on.

Josh leaned down and wrapped his arms around Donna's shoulders, kissing her temple. She stiffened immediately and, as discreetly as possible, turned down the monitor brightness so the screen went quickly black. She patted Josh's hand and glanced at him, her eyes apologetic. "I have to get this done tonight. I'm really sorry." 

"You work too hard," Josh replied, and reached for the keyboard. "What are you working on, anyway, that can't wait until Monday at nine a.m.?"

"Work stuff," Donna said again.

Josh leaned away a little, to better see her face. "What, did they tell you to write a book or risk losing your job?"

"I'm being diligent about my work. Most would say that's a very positive trait. A real resume builder."

"Donna," Josh said, his tone a low warning.

Donna pried his hands off her shoulder. "Just let me finish this one thing. Then we can go to bed." She glanced up at him coyly and repeated, _"Bed."_

"Mrs. Donnatella Moss-Lyman," Josh said, refusing to leave her side, "what are you hiding from me?"

"What happened to romance, pumpkin patch?" Donna asked, moving to close the laptop.

Josh lunged for the computer before she could get it away from him. He reached for the brightness adjustment, at the same time Donna both moved for the power button and reached out to catch his wrist. Josh got to the brightness first, turning it up as far as it would go, and once he could see the webpage Donna had been diligently editing, all the fight went out of them both.

It was a rather nice page, he had to admit, and Josh remembered with a shudder all the "HTML for Dummies" books and articles that had appeared at Donna's bedside and forgotten around the house. He had thought she was simply trying to make herself more marketable, not that she was putting it all to work on...on _this._

The header was his favorite shade of hunter green and she'd foregone the typical typewriter font or the dreaded Comic Sans for something smart and crisp, probably something with "gothic" in the name. Josh also noted the scrolling Twitter feed on the left side of the page, the various links along the top—an about page, a bio, a media link with photos and videos of Josh's public appearances. He also noted the forum post Donna had been working on, some kind of missive about an upcoming meeting for DC-area Josh Lyman fans.

All that time, he'd encouraged her to learn about pixels and fonts and graphic design, things he knew he'd never understand, skills of which he was in awe, and he'd been proud of her for it.

Josh had been betrayed.

"It was you all along!" Josh exclaimed, truly shocked to have the revelation come to light.

"I didn't ask to be their leader, Josh," Donna replied calmly. "They needed me."

"After all they did to me...! You run LemonLyman.com!" he nearly yelled, backing away and falling into his seat across the table from Donna.

"It's not like I founded it," Donna shot back. "Don't shout. You'll wake the neighbors."

Josh took a long, slow sip of bourbon, and then a deep breath. "How long has this been going on?" he demanded.

"How long has Santos been president?" Donna replied innocently.

"Donna, seriously...!"

"Because I took over as LemonLyman editor-in-chief three years before he took office."

Josh stared at her for a full minute. "You've been the Grandmaster Lemon for over a decade?"

"And my followers have prospered because of it." 

"You have access to highly confidential, insider information," Josh said slowly. "What have you been telling these people?"

"Nothing you can't find out on the internet anyway. LemonLyman.com is a collection of news articles and public appearances, with a fairly robust forum for people to discuss—anonymously, I might add—their experiences meeting you, or their opinions on what you've said in the past." Donna paused, and when she spoke again, her voice had risen with frustration. "And I think you should be a little more grateful, Mister Man, that it's _me_ pulling the strings, and not some random woman in, I don't know, Kansas, or somewhere, posting photo manips of you in boxer-briefs, with your head pasted onto Channing Tatum's body, talking about how she wants to collect your urine and do some kind of hoodoo with it to make you fall in love with her. You should also be thanking me, you know, for deleting disparaging remarks and defending your honor in more than one forum fight!" She paused to catch her breath and recompose herself. "I tamed them, Josh. Do you understand what kind of work that took?"

Slowly, Josh let a grin spread across his face. "You defend me? As editor-in-chief, aren't you supposed to be a little more...impartial?"

"EIC of a fansite is different than EIC of the _New York Times_."

"You just make this up as you go along, don't you?"

"I am a benevolent dictator. My people love and fear me." Donna grinned across the table at him. "And I have six different sign-ins, so I can pick fights when people say mean things about my hubby, and no one is the wiser."

"You're incredible," Josh said softly, his voice full of awe.

"You're looking at me like you were looking at me through the window," Donna replied.

"Is it cute?"

"It's kind of creepy, actually."

Josh finished his drink. "Even when you act like a Bond villain, I love you. You know that?"

Donna sat up a little straighter in her chair, preening. "I know."

"Let's hit the hay."

Donna handed over her untouched second glass of bourbon. "Occupy yourself. I need ten minutes to finish this letter, then I'm all yours."

She returned to her typing, as Josh sipped thoughtfully on his drink. After a few minutes of quiet, he said, "You know, we could use this to our advantage. You can post more nice things about me and only put up photographs with flattering Instagram filters. And, in return, I'll give LemonLyman an exclusive interview."

Donna didn't break stride. "Please. I've cobbled together 'exclusive interviews' from the nonsense you've said to me at the office since 2004." When Josh didn't reply, she paused and glanced over at him. "I give my people what they want, Josh. That's why they love me."

"And fear you."

"And fear me," she agreed, then typed a few more lines and posted with a flourish. "There. Done."

"I also love and fear you," Josh said, rolling the leftover ice around his glass.

"I love and adore you," Donna replied, and just as Josh's smile widened, she added, "and now that you know all about my side job, I'd like to thank you for agreeing to come to our DC LemonLyman meetup next week. Everyone's so excited to meet you."

"Donna," Josh said in a hoarse whisper, "I swear to God."

She plucked the empty glass from his hand and leaned over the back of the chair to give him a long, slow kiss. "How about giving me that LemonLyman exclusive now?" she said, the light of mischief in her eyes. 

"As long as you don't blog about it," Josh replied wryly.

"I won't. But JoshLover2014 might." Donna laughed when Josh's face fell. "I just do this for fun, Josh. Lighten up. I brought the Lemons into the twenty-first century. I don't tell them anything confidential, personal, or private."

"I know, I know. I just feel like maybe I should report you to the International League of Journalists, or something. For, you know, misrepresenting yourself, and using your position to gather sensitive information."

"Josh. Did you want to sleep on the couch tonight?"

Josh looked up at her innocently. "No, Madame Editor."

Donna narrowed her eyes at him. "International League of Journalists?" she echoed, a few beats too late.

"Bedtime," Josh said.

"Definitely." Donna hit the dining room light and Josh made sure the front door was locked, and then they stumbled up the stairs to their bedroom in the dark house, and neither of them brought up LemonLyman.com again (until breakfast, at least).

 


End file.
